


it feels like coming home

by itsonlydana



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26361733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsonlydana/pseuds/itsonlydana
Summary: taking a bath during a thunderstorm while your boyfriend reads to you
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	it feels like coming home

It had been a long day at work, every cell in your body longed for relaxation in the form of a hot bath, a delicious meal and the red wine you had been given for your last birthday and where you had only waited for the perfect moment to open it. This one was apparently now.

“Fuck fuck fuck!”, you curse when you miserably fail to balance your umbrella, coat and backpack in such a way that they won´t drip on the new carpet in the hallway. Your wet hair hangs from your head in strands, sticking cold to your cheeks and neck. Still, with all the items in your hands, you try to take off your sneakers, your socks making this unpleasant wet sound right away, and you strip them off with your toes and kick them into the corner next to the door. You could take care of them later.

On tiptoes you run into the bathroom to get rid of the wet clothes (the top was easy to take off, with the wet jeans it seemed rather as if you were performing a dance that consisted of jumping around and constantly watching not to hit your head at the sink) and put on your bathrobe, which you had already hung on the heater in the morning. God bless your intuition.

Once you have found the right temperature, you let the warm water flow into your bathtub and headed to the kitchen, where you put a portion of yesterday’s pasta in the microwave. As you watch the plate turn behind the glass pane and count the seconds, you hear a shy knocking on the door. Surprised you look at your phone first, no message, and pull your bathrobe tighter. As soon as you opened the door, you heard a: “You should look through the door spy.” and you open the door a bit further so that your visitor could see you completely. ”Oh, am I interrupting?” Your boyfriend’s eyes drove over your appearance, wet hair and a tight bathrobe, and a rosy tone lay on his cheeks. "No, no, it's all right! Come in," you said with a giggle, because Spencer's gaze fell right on your neckline. Before you could really greet him, however, there was a loud bang.

Ever since you were surprised by a thunderstorm on your way home, the rain was tapping against the windows, thunder after thunder rolled over the city, followed by lightning that was so bright that it could easily brighten up your little apartment. Apparently, one of these flashes of lightning had caught a power line, because every lamp went out within a second, the beeping of your Mirkowelle died miserably.

“My noodles!”

“That’s what you’re most worried about?” Spencer laughed amused as he followed you into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pressed you backward to his chest and breathed a kiss on your cheek. ”Hi!”  
You put down the cold noodles, which you had inspected until now disappointedly, and let him turn you. ”Hi.”, you murmur as you stand on your toes, giving him a kiss. “Why didn’t you text or called that you were coming?”, you ask and cuddle into his hug. Spencer’s hugs were the best, it felt like coming home every time he put his arms around you and rested his chin on your head while you could feel his heartbeat.  
“My phone was dead and since we just landed I thought I was just coming over, everything else would have been too complicated and laborious.”  
You grinned in his shirt. You haven’t been together long, just a year, and hearing that you were his first thought after he came back from a case, your apartment being his first stop, made your heart beat faster.  
You took a step back. ” I was actually going to bathe, but... oh shit, the water!”

While you were busy turning off the water and lighting some candles, you shouted over your shoulder: "Wanna share? I don't have the pasta anymore but I can offer you a glas of wine with it!" You could hear it rumbling in the kitchen before Spencer came to meet you with two glasses and the bottle. "It's really dangerous to take a bath during a thunderstorm. Every year 10 to 20 people suffer injuries while messing with water during a storm. You know, most pipes in household plumbing are metal and that metal is irresistible to a bold of electricity. " Spence.”, you're interrupting your boyfriend who had lost himself in his facts. "Nothing's going to happen. But I suppose you won´t come in with me?" He shakes his head wildly, his curls flying after his movements.

Sighing you dropped your bathrobe and climbed into the pleasantly hot water. Only when you were completely covered with water and foam Spencer looked at you again, he had -all the gentleman- in spite of the darkness started to play with the wine bottle as soon as you stood nude in front of him, the cheeks pink.

His fingers cleverly opened the lid and he poured you both a glass before he took off his jacket and pushed his shirt sleeves upwards. He pulled the stool that was under your sink so he could sit next to the bathtub. Your eyes were tracking every move he made.

He was so attractive. Literally on a level where you thought you were dreaming when you looked at him. You had to had done something very noble in your past life when this one gifted you this man.

He´d realized that you were staring once again and chuckled. Now it was you who was blushing. Luckily he didn´t comment on it and raised his glass to you instead. “To us. I love you, (y/n).” You clinked your glass at his. “To us!” After you had taken your first sip, he leaned over to kiss you once again, his lips tasting like wine. “I love you too, Spencer.” He smiled at you with so much love in his dark eyes. His left hand searched your arm that was laying on the edge of the tub and he began to softly stroke over your skin, his rough fingertips sending shivers over your body. With every up and down of his hand, you relaxed more. “Read to me.”

Spencer cleared his throat, drank another sip out of his glass and began to recite your favorite story: “True -- nervous -- very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses -- not destroyed -- not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily -- how calmly I can tell you the whole story.”

And when he gave life to the words, rain and thunder in the background, stroked his fingers over your arm, everything was perfect.


End file.
